


Stubborn Hands

by StarTravel



Series: Defiance Through Tenderness [13]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Flirting, Hair Braiding, Hair Brushing, Introspection, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 15:59:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17144762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarTravel/pseuds/StarTravel
Summary: Garak tries to figure out what’s true and what’s wishful thinking, while Julian begins his plan to act like his old self and finds a new challenge.





	Stubborn Hands

  Garak watches Julian put his latest mask on piece by piece, strained smile an almost mockery of the wildly enthusiastic one he used to wear when Garak first arrived on Deep Space 9. There’s no sparkle to his gaze, no genuine excitement in the way his hands slide through the air. It’s a sweet lie, if an obvious one.

 But then, Julian’s never been a good liar, as secretive as he’s turned out to be. All of his lies have been by omission; his attempt to actually protect his secret with words had been to  _ask_ someone not to contact his parents while looking around the room as though eye contact might grind him down to nothing more than ashes. Subterfuge was not his dear doctor’s domain, and it was no different now than that day with his enhancements.

“I’m feeling better now, Garak.” Julian assures him anyway, with that plastic grin as he twists around so his face is pressed against his Garak’s arm. He looks up at him over a scale, adorable and ridiculous all at the same time. Garak raises one ridge and keeps his expression carefully blank, because he’s trying to figure out how to handle this situation, to push or to let Julian set the pace. Julian crosses his arms, but doesn’t move his head from where it rests against Garak’s arm. “Don’t make that face, I was just being melodramatic before, something I’d imagine you’re familiar with.”

 Garak can’t quite stop the low scoff that slides from his mouth. Really, that’s how Julian’s going to try and spin this? As though his time on the Defiant’s no different than that fit he threw over his 30th birthday party. “You’ve been melodramatic for the past month?”

 “I - I have been difficult to live with, haven’t I?” Julian exhales slowly shaking his head as a more genuine contrition enters his gaze alongside the faked excitement, lips twisting as he wrings his hands in the air. That is more like his Julian, as is the way he swallows slightly before looking up at Garak with a determined gaze, eyebrows pressing together. He rolls to his feet suddenly, legs slightly shaky as he holds his right hand out. “I am sorry, Garak. I promise that things will be different from now on.”

 “Yes, my dear, I think they will.” Garak assures Julian as he takes his hand, grip firm as he gives Julian his most enigmatic smile. Julian’s enthusiasm and optimism might not be genuine yet, but Garak has faith that Julian’s sheer stubbornness will make it true by the end of the day if he has any left.

 And if not, if the compassion and sentimental idealism that once defined his Julian are truly gone, at least they’ll both know and won’t waste anymore time on trying to rescue him. Julian can return to his new, bitter existence and Garak …

 Well, he’s been alone before. It won’t take long to remember how to be.

 Garak lets Julian less him down the beach, nods politely and throws in wry comments whenever Julian pauses, breathless as words come spilling out of his mouth. Normally he’d banter back and forth or ask questions about the fauna on Risa, which Julian knows far too much about for it not to have been one of his pet interests at some point.

 But today, Garak merely listens and watches, sliding into the careful gaze of the Obsidian order as he evaluates Julian. It’s been months since he’s listened to Julian go on about one of his interests, and he’s not sure how many of those ever rarer conversations from the past year were Julian and how many were the changeling. So, he can admit to some lingering doubt over if Julian’s laugh is real when Garak makes a wry observation about human exploration, or if his wide-eyed curiosity when he comes upon a rainbow-tinted shell is genuine.

 Those expressions feel familiar and refreshing all at once, like finding clear spring water among toxic muk and blood-tinged rivers. But Garak has his own moments of sentimentality, and he fears that might be obscuring him to the fact that Julian’s smiles and lengthy stories may be mere lies spun for his benefit, weaving around them like a cocoon.

 At least Garak has plenty of time to study Julian to be sure, three more days of their vacation still left. For now they finish their walk, sliding onto a slab of rock by their room again. Garak glances down at Julian, who sits up on his haunches with a slight frown. Julian brushes a hand across Garak’s hair, which is starting to have more of a spring than he strictly likes. “Does your hair curl in the heat?”

 “Unfortunately, no. Cardassian hair merely starts to frizz.” Garak admits with a low sigh, sliding a hand across the same strands Julian had been playing with a few seconds before.

 “I can’t imagine how much you must hate that.” Julian shifts forward so he’s balancing his (admittedly slight) weight on one hand, legs crossed and stretched out lazily in front of him and perpendicular to Garak’s body. Julian’s grin widens suddenly, gaze flicking across Garak impishly as he runs his hand up along the hair by his neck ridges, each one twisting and frazzling a bit more beneath Julian’s none too careful fingers.

 “Yet somehow you seem to be doing an admirable job.” Garak lets out a chiding sound, pressing his lips together. He reaches up and grabs Julian’s hand, sliding his fingers through his and pulling his hand away so it can’t do anymore damage to his hair. “It used to be fashionable to braid your hair, but given that hasn’t been true for over a hundred years, I fear we have to use an utterly wasteful amount of product.”

 Julian makes a clucking sound with the edge of his tongue, pressing a hand over his heart. As though someone from the Federation had any place being appalled by _waste._ Julian raises an eyebrow, gaze flickering back up to Garak’s hair with a sigh. Garak reaches a hand out, running his palm across Julian’s curls until they’re sticking up in several directions. “And you don’t have the luxury of buying any while we’re stuck on the Defiant?”

 “Something like that.” Garak answers him with a roll of his shoulders, one of his thighs brushing against Julian’s bare ankle lightly. Whereas Garak’s fully dressed in his usual clothes, Julian’s opted for a neon green tank top that does nothing for his skin tone and chartreuse shorts. At least it would be impossible for Garak to lose sight of him if they were separated somehow.

 Julian seems to catch his stare, shaking his head a bit and mouthing something under his breath. Then he shifts, his long legs sliding back as he suddenly twists around so he’s halfway behind Garak and halfway on top of him. Julian grabs a handful of his hair with a surprising gentleness, his fingers sliding through the locks. “Well then, I suppose you’ll have to go back to the old-fashioned ways.”

 “My dear, what exactly are you doing?” Garak asks as he raises an eye ridge, though he doesn’t pull away from Julian’s touch or entwine their hands again. He can’t help but be a little curious about where this is going. Julian carefully runs his fingers through Garak’s hair, touch quick and repetitive.

 “Brushing your hair. Really, Garak, I thought you of all people would make sure not to be so careless with it.” Julian answers in voice far warmer than his words. Garak doesn’t have to look at him to see the way Julian’s undoubtedly shaking his head, or the amused adoration in his gaze. Julian gives a playful tug to the end of one small bunch.“Your ends are split everywhere.”

 “At least my hair isn’t sticking up in three different directions.” Garak’s voice is cool and prim, with just the lightest touch of affection underpinning each and every word. Julian gives another tug on his hair and then he starts moving it around with a precision Garak knows he usually reserves for his patients. “And you can’t even blame the heat, my dear.”

 “No, I can only blame you.” Julian laughs, short and playful, hands still shifting through his hair as though it’s taken up most of his focus. Garak cranes his neck back, ignoring Julian’s low sigh as he dislodges his hands from where they were tugging on his hair.

  There’s something different to his gaze than a few hours ago, something tender and sure that Garak hasn’t seen in Julian’s gaze since he burnt his hand all those weeks ago.

Garak smiles back at him softly, something warm filling his chest as he reaches a hand out to rest on Julian’s inner thigh, the scales on his wrist brushing against the warm skin there. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, my dear.”

 “Of course not.” Julian murmurs in an obnoxiously chipper voice, hands giving another pointed tug on his hair. Still, Garak doesn’t miss the way Julian glances down at his where his hand is running small circles into the edge of his knee. Julian makes no move to push him away, hands wrapping the last of Garak’s hair together. “Here, now you won’t have to worry about pomade.”

 “Julian, what in Gul’s name is this supposed to be?” Garak asks as Julian pulls the braid out to the side of his head with a smile that’s far more smug than Julian has any right to feel right now. Garak flicks his gaze to the side just in time to see the utter  _travesty_ Julian has made of his formerly pristine hair. “How is it crooked and bunching at the same time?”

 Julian lets out a low huff as he lets go of Garak’s hair, the braid already starting to come undone in odd little bunches. Garak’s positive it’s more tangled than before Julian started. Julian pouts at him, slumping down so he’s more on top of Garak, right hand pressing over his knee and left clutching his shoulder. “I’ve never braided hair before.”

 “I thought you were supposed to be naturally good at everything.” Garak reminds him with a raised eye ridge, enjoying the way Julian scowls at him and pulls his arms back to cross them against his chest. Garak pulls the hand away from Julian’s thigh to tug on the edge of his braid instead, the last of the crosses coming undone between his fingertips. “Did those enhancements not include a sense of aesthetics? You’re practically a Vorta.”

 “I’m good at everything once I _learn_ it. Give me another 15 minutes and your hair will be as elaborate as Jadzia’s.” Julian’s voice borders on snippy, but that’s belied by the mirthful look in his eyes as he glances back at him. Then Julian rolls to his feet and starts walking to the back door of their room, not even bothering to brush any of the sand off his legs as he climbs the short staircase to their balcony. The federation really does fail at teaching basic manners.

Garak follows him, body close as he surveys the beach for signs of danger out of habit. He doesn’t stop until the door is safely locked behind them, Julian crossing the room to grab something on their end table. Garak told his shoulders, sliding down onto the edge of their bed and wondering idly if he could convince Julian to get them more blankets. Julian comes to stand behind him, suddenly climbing onto the bed and crawling across the sheets. Garak raises an eyeridge when he feels fingers running through his hair again. “Wait, are you actually going to keep playing with my hair?”

 “I’m a perfectionist, Garak, and as you noted, this is hardly perfect.” Julian’s voice is determined but playful, and when Garak looks up at their reflection in the mirror, there’s a familiar sparkle in that eye, an optimism that manages to be sweet and arrogant all at once. It’s not something that can be faked.

 Garak lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, his own handing sliding back to grip Julian’s thigh again. 

**Author's Note:**

> Questions? Comments? :)


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